


Encounter

by Ischa



Series: Encounter [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Man of Steel (2013), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Escort Service, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 18:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10314662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: This is a sequel/bridge part to ‘We leave it as it is’ and is set roughly ten years later. It deals with the events of the movie.“I’d prefer Mister Wayne. A few fucks I paid for, doesn’t give you the right for such intimacy.”Clark’s eyes flashed and a shiver ran down Bruce’s spine. The boy had grown up and become a man, and Bruce liked the man Clark had become. Under other circumstances he would have taken Clark home again. Would have spent the night mapping out Clark’s skin, making him shiver and cry out in pleasure.But Bruce was on a crusade and knights often didn’t come back from those.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Quotes lifted from the movie are obviously not mine.  
> Beta: Icalynn.

[en-koun-ter]  
noun  
1.  
a meeting with a person or thing, especially a casual, unexpected, or brief meeting  
2.  
a meeting of persons or groups that are in conflict or opposition; combat; battle

~One~

Bruce knew as soon as he saw him. Not only because he had been keeping tabs on Clark Kent – as far as it had been possible. The boy had moved around a lot after he left Gotham, but he had always used his real name. There was a paper trail to follow. Bruce hadn’t indulged in looking Kent up often. 

He had hoped that Clark would just – let it be. Ignore the playboy billionaire in favor of people who had more to say. Like Lex. 

And besides Bruce wasn’t here to socialize. He was working. 

Clark of course made for him as soon as he spotted Bruce. 

“Mister Wayne,” he said. No smile on his lips, Bruce thought. Nothing to give away that they knew, had known, Bruce corrected, each other once upon a time.

Bruce looked at him politely. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

Bruce put on his Bruce Wayne public persona on. “Oh, my foundation has already issued a statement in support of, uh, books.”

Clark looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

He had to leave. There were encrypted secrets he had to steal. And then he saw his chance as a beautiful woman past them by. “Wow. Pretty girl, bad habit. Don't quote me, alright?” He said and was trying to make it look like he was going to pursuit her. 

Clark wasn’t giving up however. “Civil liberties are being trampled on in your city; good people living in fear.”

That got Bruce’s attention alright. Because if someone was talking about the Batman, they got Bruce’s attention. “Don't believe everything you hear, son.” 

“I've seen it, Mr. Wayne. He thinks he's above the law.” Clark pressed on.

“The Daily Planet criticizing those who think they're above the law is a little hypocritical, wouldn't you say? Considering every time your hero saves a cat out of a tree, you write a puff piece editorial about an alien who, if he wanted to, could burn the whole place down. There wouldn't be a damn thing we can do to stop it.” 

“Most of the world doesn't share your opinion, Mr. Wayne,” Clark said and he sounded a bit confused. Like he thought Bruce’s answer would be different. Maybe it would have been ten years ago, Bruce thought. But he wasn’t the Bruce from ten years ago. 

“Maybe it's that Gotham City and me... we just have a bad history with freaks dressed like clowns.”

For a moment Bruce thought he saw hurt flicker over Clark’s face, but then Lex interrupted the moment. 

Great, Bruce thought, just great. 

~+~

“I nearly didn’t recognize you,” Clark said from the shadows. 

Bruce turned around to look at him. Well, the woman was gone. Bruce didn’t think he would be able to track her that easily. And he was pretty sure she stole his stolen encrypted secrets. Dammit. 

“I’m shocked, I’m always on page six at least,” Bruce replied. 

Clark stepped out of the shadows and frowned at Bruce. “Bruce-”

“I don’t think you should take the liberty of using my first name, Mister Kent.” 

“It’s Clark,” Clark said. “We actually met before.” 

“Did we?” Bruce asked. He deliberately looked Clark up and down. He could see that it made Clark uncomfortable to be so blatantly checked out. “I don’t make it a habit to fraternize with reporters Mister Kent.” 

“I wasn’t one back then,” Clark said. He straightened his spine and Bruce was pleased to note that he was still bigger than Clark. Not by much, but just enough. Just enough that it would be a delight to push him to his knees and – he stopped right there. This wasn’t why he had come here. 

“I don’t see how we should have met then,” he replied and then pretended to think about it. “When was this?” 

“About ten years ago,” Clark answered. “In Gotham.”

“Ten years ago…ah, my phase. You were one of my boys?” 

Clark flinched. He tried to stop it, but Bruce had been looking for it. 

“You were, weren’t you? Did I pay you too?” Bruce continued. 

Clark nodded. 

It hurt to see him like this. Whatever Clark had hoped for, it wasn’t going to happen. Not tonight or any other night. They couldn’t just pick up where they left off ten years ago. What was Clark thinking? 

“And now what? Do you not make enough for rent with your current job? Does the ‘ let them eat cake’ beat not pay enough?” 

“Bruce-”

“I’d prefer Mister Wayne. A few fucks I paid for, doesn’t give you the right for such intimacy.” 

Clark’s eyes flashed and a shiver ran down Bruce’s spine. The boy had grown up and become a man, and Bruce liked the man Clark had become. Under other circumstances he would have taken Clark home again. Would have spent the night mapping out Clark’s skin, making him shiver and cry out in pleasure. 

But Bruce was on a crusade and knights often didn’t come back from those. 

“Mister Wayne,” Clark said. “No, I don’t want to- whatever you think I want. I surely don’t need your money. And for your information. You never paid me to fuck you.” 

“I know, I don’t let boys fuck me, I do the fucking,” Bruce interrupted. 

“We didn’t fuck,” Clark hissed. It seemed to Bruce like he wanted to follow that up with something else. Maybe with the fact that Bruce had wanted to suck him off, that he had done it and enjoyed it, but then he just snapped his mouth shut. 

Probably better, Bruce thought. He would have used it as ammunition to hurt Clark further. 

Bruce sighed. “What do you want Mister Kent? Because I was on my way home and I don’t intend to invite you.” 

For a second Clark looked lost. “Nothing, Mister Wayne. I apologize for stealing your time. Goodnight.”

“Kent,” Bruce said just as Clark was turning around. 

“Yes?” 

“If any of this makes it into a lurid article, I will sue you.” 

Clark laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t quote you on a dammed thing.”

~+~

Bruce didn’t want to think about seeing Clark, about his desire to touch Clark again. He didn’t want to think about seeing the hurt and anger on Clark’s face. He didn’t want to think about any of it, but he couldn’t stop. 

He knew he had been right in pushing Clark away. It would be no good for Clark to get tangled in this mess that was Bruce’s life now. 

Eventually, Clark would discover his secret. Bruce had more scars now, he barely encouraged relationships. 

Bruce was a dangerous man, on a dangerous mission, and Clark really shouldn’t be anywhere near him now. 

 

~Two~

“A little bit of late night obsessing?” Alfred asked with a glance at the screen. 

Clark’s face was front and center. But it wasn’t like Bruce had to hide these things from Alfred. Alfred had been there when Clark barged in and demanded answers all those years ago. 

“I saw him last night at Luther’s gala,” Bruce said. 

“You’ve always kept tabs on him, Master Bruce,” Alfred replied. And didn’t have to say that Bruce hadn’t kept tabs on any of the other young men he had been with once upon a time. Or the women for that matter. 

“He wanted to talk to me,” Bruce said. Had it been only nostalgia? Now Bruce wondered. 

“And?” 

“I was cruel and aloof and made him angry,” Bruce answered. 

“Not the first time,” Alfred said. 

“Most likely the last,” Bruce said. He clicked the picture away and went back to his search for the White Portuguese. 

Alfred chose not to comment, for which Bruce was thankful. 

~+~

The next time he saw Clark Kent, it was at a charity ball he had only attended because he was hoping to see the mysterious woman again, the one that had stolen his encrypted secrets. Clark was talking to a woman that after a brief consideration he identified as Lois Lane. The way they leaned into each other told Bruce all he needed to know about their relationship. 

The mysterious woman wasn’t here and he was wasting his time. 

“Bruce!” Ford said, too loudly and Bruce put on his public face. 

“Ford,” Bruce said, pulling the man with him away from Kent and Lane, hoping he wouldn’t have to talk to the reporter. 

“I was sure you would only write a check,” Ford said, laughing. 

“One has to show up sometimes,” Bruce replied. “Or people might forget what I look like.” 

“I don’t think anyone could forget you, Mister Wayne,” Clark’s voice came from the right. 

“Mister Klimt, was it?” Bruce said. 

Lane gave him a look that he knew all too well. She thought he was just someone who drank too much and hooked up with women that were barely old enough to be his daughters. 

“Kent,” Clark answered calmly. “Daily Planet.” 

“Ah, yes, the one I own,” Bruce replied. 

“That sounded like a threat,” Lane said. 

He looked at her, blinked. “No, merely an observation. Miss Lane.” 

She didn’t comment. 

“Bruce really doesn’t care enough what the press writes about him to threaten anyone,” Ford cut in. 

“Freedom of speech is dear to me,” Bruce said with a wink at Lane. 

She wasn’t charmed, but that was probably on principle and he was off his game a bit, because she wasn’t the woman he wanted to talk to anyway. 

“If you excuse me,” he added, ignored Ford’s halfhearted protest and made his way outside. 

He should probably stay another hour or so, just to be seen, but he really didn’t want to deal with Lane and Kent right now.

“Hiding?” Clark asked, as he slipped onto the stone bench Bruce was sitting on. 

“Not well enough it seems,” Bruce replied lightly. “I’m not giving any statements, Mister Kent. You’re wasting your time.” 

“I’m not after a statement or a quote,” Clark said. 

“What are you after then?” 

There was a small pause and then Clark sighed. “I wanted to apologize.” 

“Apologize? For what? I think I was the rude one the last time we saw each other.” 

“You were rude, that’s true, but I get it now,” Clark answered. 

Bruce raised an eyebrow in question. He hadn’t thought Clark would want to talk to him again, after he had been so deliberately cruel. 

“I just walked back into your life, after ten years of not a single word. I mean…I could have kept in touch, but I didn’t-”

“Clark, you were young back then, looking for a meaning to life, or more specifically your life. I know, I’ve been young once. I’ve been searching too. There is no need to revisit that time,” Bruce interrupted. He didn’t want to revisit that time with Clark. Looking at Clark now, he still wanted him. And it was a weakness he couldn’t afford right now. Or ever again. 

“You must have thought I wanted to blackmail you.”

“No, really I didn’t think that. I don’t think you’re that kind of person. I looked you up, Mister Kent. You seem like a decent reporter.” 

“Gee thanks, Mister Wayne,” Clark replied and he was smiling, looking out over the dark garden. It gave Bruce the opportunity to study Clark’s profile. 

“When I look at you,” Bruce said, looking away from Clark’s profile, “I see potential.” 

“And that’s good? I think I am where I’m meant to be now,” Clark replied. 

“It’s good, it’s always good to be able to be better and more, to evolve,” Bruce answered. 

“You sound like you don’t think you can, Mister Wayne,” Clark said. 

“You should get back to your girlfriend, Mister Kent, I’m sure she’s looking for you,” Bruce replied, ignoring the implied question. 

“How did you know she’s my girlfriend? We haven’t told anyone at work.” 

“It’s in the way you look at her, she looks at you. Body language too. I’m sure Perry White knows.” 

Clark turned to look at him. “You’re very observant, or was it just because it’s me?” 

“Clark,” Bruce said. It was a warning. 

“I’m not starting anything,” Clark replied. “I just didn’t want you to think I talked to you because I wanted something.” 

“You wanted something,” Bruce stated, because why else even risk talking to Bruce? 

“A statement, a quote, yes, but also just to talk to you. Primarily just to talk to you again. We were friends once and I know you remember.” 

There was no use in denying that now, Bruce thought. “I remember.” 

“But you don’t want to…” Clark trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish that sentence. 

“No. I don’t want to,” Bruce replied. “Good night, Mister Kent.” He said, getting up and walking back to the party. 

“Good night, Mister Wayne.” 

 

~Three~

Bruce was wholly unprepared for his first encounter with Superman. To be honest he hadn’t thought that Superman would take an interest in him, or what was going on in Gotham. 

The first emotion and he would never admit it to anyone, not even Alfred, was awe. Next came anger, because Bruce was in the middle of something here. Of something important. Then came rage, because his car was pretty much crashed. It would take weeks to repair it. 

He said nothing as Superman ripped his car apart and just looked at him. He was, Bruce thought, really awe inspiring. He could see how people would want to worship him. Bruce didn’t believe in gods. 

“Next time they shine your light in the sky, don't go to it. The Bat is dead. Bury it. Consider this mercy.” His voice was steady. He didn’t wait for Batman to answer, probably didn’t think Batman would. 

But the rage was at the forefront again. “Tell me. Do you bleed?” He asked. “You will,” he added quieter, but he knew that Superman could hear him. 

~+~

Bruce wasn’t really shocked that Superman knew who he was. He probably looked behind, or in his case, through the mask and after a quick google search he had a name to the face. 

What made him pause, for a moment, just a moment, was the fact that Superman used his first name. It rolled of his tongue like he had been used to the shape of it in his mouth. 

No matter in the end, Bruce thought. He wasn’t here for a chat. He was here to kill Superman or die trying. 

~+~

It was harder than he thought it would be, because the rage and hate he had so carefully grown in his heart for this man that he didn’t know, didn’t want to know (Oh, he was aware that he could have found out more about Superman, about where he lived when he wasn’t Superman, who he was hiding behind), was failing him now. 

Now that he had the god on his back, now that he could see him struggle, now that Bruce was the one who held Superman’s life in his hands. 

Fragile life under his boot. 

“You were never a god. You were never even a man!”

And he was trying to say something, between the desperate gulps for breath and Bruce knew he was staling, because he – he had never killed anyone. Not like this. “You're letting them kill Martha...” Superman whispered. 

The name. His mother’s name. The last word his father had ever said on earth. “What does that mean? Why did you say that name?”

“Find him... Save Martha...” It was barely a whisper.

“Why did you say that name? Martha? Why did you say that name? WHY DID YOU SAY THAT NAME?”

“It's his mother's name! It's his mother's name,” Lane said, throwing herself over Superman’s body. Like she would be able to save him. Like she could protect him from harm. Because she loved him, Bruce realized in the same moment he realized that he had loved this man once too. 

~+~

Bruce had buried a lot of people he had loved. There never seemed to be enough time to say the things that needed to be said. And this time had not been an exception either. 

He had thought, maybe after, after they could talk – without lies and half-truths between them.  
He should have known better. Even gods die after all. 

He could feel Diana stepping closer to him, but didn’t turn away from the funeral. “All the circuses back east, burying an empty box.”

“They don't know how to honor him, except as a soldier,” Diana replied. 

It was true, he supposed. “I've failed him... in life. I won't fail him in death.” It was a promise he was making to Clark and himself. He should have looked closer, he should have – he needed to stop right there, because there was nothing he could do about the past, but plenty he could do about the future. “Help me find the others like you.”

“Perhaps they don't want to be found,” Diana said. She too was not looking away from the funeral. She too, wasn’t going to stand beside the coffin. 

“They will. And they'll fight. We have to stand together.” 

“A hundred years ago, I walked away from mankind, from a century of horrors. Man made a world where standing together is impossible.” 

“Men are still good. We fight. We kill. We betray one another. But we can rebuild. We can do better. We will. We have to.” Did he mean, men? Or did he mean one in particular? One that made him want to be better? Bruce wasn’t going to look at it too closely now. Not with the loss still so fresh. 

“The others like me,” Diana said into his musing. “Why did you say they'll have to fight?”

The way Luthor had been looking at him. The way they had found him in that ship. Clark’s ship, polluted and perverted. The way he had seemed excited for something, something terrible and powerful. But Bruce had no proof yet. “Just a feeling,” he answered her and was sure she knew he was holding something back.

It wasn’t the right time to tell her, but Bruce knew he had to start sharing with her more. She was his only ally now. He feared she and the Batman might not be enough for what was to come. 

~+~

He probably should have had asked, Bruce thought, looking at the torn Superman suit. Would his mother want it back? Was she wondering where it went? Who took it? 

Alfred stepped beside him, looked at the glass case besides Robin’s. “A rather morbid collection you’re starting, Master Bruce.” 

“I don’t intend to make it a habit to lose more-” he hesitated, “People close to me,” he settled on. 

“I’m glad to hear that, sir,” Alfred replied. “Dinner in the cave again?” 

“No,” Bruce said. “I think I’d rather like to have it on the deck. In the sun.” 

He could feel Alfred’s gaze on him, but Alfred, as always, bless the man, didn’t comment on it. “Very well, sir,” he said instead and Bruce followed him out of the cave.


End file.
